Meet The Family
by canihavesomefic
Summary: AU-An Enjolras x Eponine fic, Eponine tries to hide her past from the mysterious revolutionary with whom she keeps crossing paths, and their already strange relationship is severely threatened by the events at the barricade
1. Prologue

Eponine stumbled backwards, hand clasped to her cheek, already swollen beneath her fingertips.

"I suppose you think this Marius is gonna take care of you, then?" sneered her father, stepping closer.

Eponine's head snapped up, eyes ablaze.

"I can take care of myself," she spat.

"Ha! You'd better had, love," her father said tightly gripping her forearm to keep her from retreating further, "cuz he ain't bothered with you for a minute!"

"And why should he be?" she retorted defensively. "But he is better than you, they all are!"

His fist collided with her face once again. She felt the warmth of blood oozing down her neck, but she felt a sick sort of gratification. She knew, perhaps more than Thenardier himself, that he relied on her, that half his schemes were worthless without a pretty face, and the other half he'd only be able to pull off single-handedly if he could stay sober. The source of his reproach was clear, but his argument isn't very convincing.

"Now you're too high and mighty for us, eh?" he said dangerously, his hot breath on her ear sending a shudder down her spine. "Might I remind you what you've-"

"Can I help it if you haven't got a shred of decency?" she interrupted sharply, drawing herself up to full height. She did not need her wrongdoings recounted, not by him of all people.

"Who do you think I learned from?" she hissed. "Never for a moment did you ever consider-" His hand raised again, but she dodged him, ducking under his arm, catching it and twisting it behind his back.

"I want out," she snarled next to his ear. "I want nothing to do with you. They can be honorable. Why shouldn't I?"

They, she thought. She wasn't fooling anyone, and she knew it. Thenadier's scoff told her he knew exactly to whom she was referring, and Eponine would not deny that he was right in saying that the gentleman in question would never bother with her. But where, she asked her self was the harm in striving to be more worthy? She wanted to make herself better for him.

"Well, you find a better way of getting on- you let me know," her father grunted. "This is it darlin', and it ain't honorable, it ain't pretty...and there sure as hell ain't no escaping it."

Disgusted, she shoved him away from her.

"That's what you think."

He fell forward onto his knees, making no attempt to grab at her, but as she turned and stormed away she thought she heard him chuckle.

"And where will you go?" he asked hoarsely.

"I've never had anywhere to go before," she said without turning back. "Why should that make any difference now?"


	2. Chapter 1

"Pardon me, Mademoiselle."

Eponine, leaned against the facade of the Cafe Musain, looked up with a start, jolted from her thoughts of Marius in the room within.

"I don't suppose you are familiar with those gentlemen?" continued the man who'd addressed her, nodding towards the door of the cafe, through which floated the laughter and conversation of the students it contained. Eponine scrutinized the gentleman, for that was clearly what he was. Dressed in clothes that she surmised were the best that could be bought, he seemed rather ancient to Eponine. Several paces behind he stood three other men, all as equally gray as the first and all eying her.

"Yes, I am," she said hesitantly.

The man nodded eagerly. "Ah,yes. Well you see, we are in search of a very old… acquaintance, a Monsieur Enjolras, as it were, with rather urgent business. We have been given to believe he frequents this cafe. Do you know a man of that name?"

Eponine did not answer. Certainly she knew of the man. He was their leader, she knew well enough. Many a night spent in the company of Marius had been accompanied by the former's angry speeches, meant to evoke passion, no doubt, but no more than white noise to her. She was hardly acquainted with him, but was sent into a sudden panic at the stranger's words. She could not claim to understand the intricacies of their cause, but from the way they talked she did not doubt that the leader could have many enemies. Were these men of the king? Law enforcement? Eponine was far from a friend of Monsieur Enjolras, but she felt a certain amount of loyalty towards him; at least more than she did towards this bourgeois man.

"Or perhaps," he prompted when she did not answer, "if not here, you may know where else we might find him?"

"Perhaps, Monsieur," she said slowly. She supposed it was best Enjolras know the men were here, but she certainly wasn't going to be any part of it without some incentive. She may have left her family, but she'd learned a thing or two before she'd gone.

The man seemed to catch on after a moment. Grumbling, he reached into his pocket and handed her a crumpled bill.

"I'll go and see if I can't find him, shall I?" Eponine said with an obliging smile, pocketing the money.

"Merci."

She turned briskly into the glow of the cafe, searching the bar room. She did not spot the familiar red coat anywhere, nor the blonde curls. Hiking up her skirts, higher, perhaps than was entirely appropriate, she ascended to the second floor taking the worn stairs two at a time and nearly collided with a student as she rounded the corner into the room. An apology had hardly begun to form when she recognized the man as the chief himself.

"Monsieur," she said hurriedly before he could speak. "There are men outside for you."

His brow crinkled. She wondered vaguely if he even knew who she was.

"What men?" he asked her.

"I don't know. I've never seen them before, Monsieur."

"Eponine, who are they?" he pressed.

Shocked at his use of her name, she faltered slightly. "They're… a small company, four of them, all bourgeois, but I don't recognize them," she said hoping the description would suffice. "They're asking for you."

He nodded briskly and straightened up. "Thank you," he said brushing past her. She watched him, wanting to shout after him, but not finding the words to do so. She wanted to warn him of her suspicions, but she supposed he understood his own circumstances better than she did. Even so, worry and a flicker new-found affection drove her to follow.

Peering around to be sure she would not be followed, she slipped down the stairs after him and ran out the back door. Silently, she slipped along the side way of the alley, pausing at the corner. She leaned back against the building listening to their distant voices floating towards her.

"…truly is a shame," said one of the unfamiliar voices. "Our sincere condolences."

She heard the slamming of a door and peered around the corner to see a carriage rolling away. Enjolras stood watching it go, his back to her. She watched as his hand came up to his forehead, rubbing it. She crept closer.

"Monsieur?"

He jumped at the sound of her voice and turned, nodding slightly in acknowledgement of her. He seemed distracted still, his brow crinkled again.

"Are you alright?" she asked tentatively.

"Yes, yes of course," he said quickly, refusing to meet her eye.

"What's that?" she asked pointing to the paper he clutched in his hand.

Perhaps she was out of line, but Eponine had never been one to worry about such things nor to let a question drop without being answered.

Enjolras, surprisingly, did not seem too bothered by the questions. He simply glanced down at the paper in his fist. "It's…a will. My, um… my father's will."

Eponine inhaled sharply. "I'm so sorry," she said. Enjolras nodded again, but did not speak. Eponine began to back away, certain he would not want her company at such a moment.

"You see, the thing is," he said looking up suddenly, halting her in her

tracks, "I haven't spoken to any of my family in years. Years. And now this!" he said brandishing the papers, bitterness creeping into his tone. "No note, not a line dropped just-" He scoffed angrily, pacing as he spoke. She watched him silently. "As if she imagined all I wanted from my father was money. As if he would have… " He stopped himself, sighing heavily. "Well, I've been getting along just fine for some time now without their finances."

Eponine bit her lip. "You're…angry about the money?" she asked, disconcerted

He looked up, startled, as if he'd only just realized she was there.

"No, I…Forgive me," he said solemnly. "How petty my woes-" He stopped short shaking his head. "I must seem awful to you."

"Not at all.," she lied easily, shaking her head. "You've had a shock, it's-"

"It's no excuse," he finished with finality.

"You were…close with your father, Monsieur?" she asked softly edging closer.

Enjolras chuckled. "At one time, I suppose so, yes. But you can imagine, we didn't exactly see eye-to-eye. Now of course…." He trailed off.

Eponine could easily imagine Enjolras failing to see eye to eye with a lot of people. She had comforted a fair number of mourners in her time, however; she was not new to the business. She smiled kindly as she spoke again.

"I think, monsieur," she said gently, "he must have been proud of you."

He laughed again, bitterly.

"The estate defaulted to my second cousin. It's a funny way of showing pride…"

He looked at her as if hoping to be contradicted. She knew he'd dropped his guard completely; never would this man behave like this normally. Yet, despite it's unnerving quality, his sincerity amazed her. Why tell her any of this? Even in the dim lighting of the street, she was struck but the beauty of his features. Curls fell over his forehead, and she longed to reach out and push them back. She settled for taking his head. He flinched at the contact but did not pull away.

"I think…." she began, "Well I think it's difficult for people to admit to things…to support them… when doing so would severely complicate everything they're meant to stand for." He squeezed her hand, and she continued. "If you were as similar as you say," she said, allowing herself to stretch his words slightly for the sake of comfort, "I can only imagine he admired your courage to stand up for what he dared not."

He stared back at her, eyes wide. Suddenly, he seemed to remember himself and he dropped her hand. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Eponine was already gone, disappearing into the shadows.

"Goodnight, Monsieur."


	3. Chapter 2

Soaked from head to foot and frozen to the bone, Eponine made her way towards the Cafe Musain for yet another night. She wondered vaguely whether les amis would be meeting tonight; or more particularly, she wondered if she would see Marius. Marius, whom, she reminded herself, had apparently found the woman of his dreams.

She stopped for a moment just outside the door. Did she want to risk seeing him? she asked herself. Perhaps it would only cause her more pain, but then again she hardly wanted to stand out here in the rain all night. Besides, she could not pretend she did not enjoy the nights they inhabited the cafe, filling it with their laughter and their stories, their voices and their kindness. And besides, she had no where else to go, she thought, ducking into the cafe.

"'Ponine!" slurred Grantaire the moment she crossed the threshold. He was already slightly drunk, she realized. The sun had hardly set. She grinned widely at him, nevertheless. There was always something about this man that she found endearing.

"Sit!" he urged her, kicking back the empty chair nearest to her. With a backwards glance, she conceded and sat in it. As she turned back to face them, she caught sight of Enjolras watching from across the room. Courfeyrac, it transpired, had seen him to.

"Enjolras!" he called warmly. "Join us." Enjolras stared at him stonily in return, surprised at being addressed, but refused sit.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Grantaire with a laugh."The chief himself? Should the world not crumble if he were to partake in such fruitless escapades as our own?" 

The students laughed, and Eponine peered up at Enjolras who approached the table. She had not spoken to him since the night he'd received the news of his father. He did not, she noticed with a smirk, appear to take well to being mocked, even good naturedly.

"Perhaps," he sneered, "had you any comprehension of our cause, you would regard it with more…sobriety." An appreciative chuckle passed amongst the men around her at his choice of words.

"Our cause?" guffawed Grantaire. "I see your conviction, Enjolras, it is unmistakable. As for your cause, you've yet to convince me."

"I could guarantee that no other man in the room would make the same claim."

"No?" laughed Grantaire. "Then what about the women?" he said pointing astutely at Eponine. The eyes of every man at the table turned to her in anticipation, clearly amused but for Enjolras who continued to glare at Grantaire.

"Come on now, 'Ponine, tell him the truth," urged Grantaire, getting to his feet. "It will hardly dictate his opinion of you, and you surely won't offend him. Marble doesn't crumble."

Eponine looked back to Grantaire who grinned encouragingly at her. "Oh, don't worry. I do not hesitate for want of his approval," she informed him. Grantaire laughed gleefully at her jaunty demeanor.

"No, no, of course not," he chuckled. "I assure you mademoiselle, it is he who seeks your approval."

Eponine laughed aloud at his words. Truly, she did not seek the approval of anyone, but the idea that Enjolras would be damaged by her disapproval, although complimentary, was comical For if the approval of others meant so little to her, surely he, as detached from emotion as he was, would not be touched by another's words, especially someone like her.

Enjolras' eyes turned to her, his eyebrows raised expectation of a response to Grantaire's question. She shook her head, laughing still, refusing to get in the middle of the spat.

"Surely you must have some faith in us," prompted Combeferre from behind her.

"Oh, I do," she assured him with a smile, eyes still locked on Enjolras. "No one could doubt your bravery."

For an instant thought she saw something soften in his face, but the next moment she knew she must have been mistaken as he brushed past her without another word. The fabric of his red coat grazed against her arm as he went, leaving her in shock where she sat, feeling a pang of guilt. Had he really taken such offense at her refusal to take a side? Les amis laughed, however.

"Please," said Joly with a chortle, "for as long as you can, don't let him think he's convinced you. I've never been more pleased to see anyone challenged in my life."

Eponine giggled, but was cut short as Grantaire shouted across the cafe again.

"Marius!" he exclaimed. "Decided to grace us with your presence at last?"

Eponine's head whipped around, smiled fading quickly as Marius, rain soaked just as she was, approached their table.

"I was...deterred," he made his excuses with a wave of his hand.

"I don't suppose the detour included a certain young woman?" ask Courfeyrac slyly.

_Leave, Eponine,_ she told herself. _Stand up and walk away._ But she couldn't even tear her eyes off his face, much less walk away. He smiled as if in a daze and sat down without so much as a glance towards her.

"When are we going to see this mystery lady, Marius?" slurred Grantaire putting an arm around his friend's shoulders. "I'm beginning to think she does not exist."

"Soon, I hope," replied Marius fervently. "Yes, soon, now that I've... well, we're going to be married," he exhaled happily.

Eponine froze. She felt as if her chest were contracting, and she felt Combeferre's eyes land on her in concern. She knew that her feeling for Marius were no secret to most of his friends, but she ignored the gaze as well as the rest of their voices whooping and laughing at the announcement. She felt as if she were drowning, unable to breath...

She pushed her chair back swiftly causing it to screech horribly. She stood without a word and walked towards the door in a daze. They wouldn't notice she was leaving. She hardly noticed, to be honest. She simply let her feet carry her far away in the hope that when they stopped, she might have left all the pain behind.

She came abruptly to a halt, shocked to find herself standing at the bank of the Seine. She looked around and pulled her coat closer to her body, the wind suddenly chilling her, her senses returning. The rain had stopped, she realized, as she stared down into the water.

What did you expect? she asked herself. It all seemed laughable now. Marius, her dispute with her father, all of it. She'd wanted to better herself because of him, she remembered with a disgusted snort. How foolish. He had never glanced twice at her, but she had not hesitated to throw away what little stability she had for the sake of him. She sank to the ground bringing her hands to her head.

How had things taken a turn so awful that her father's schemes seemed like a better alternative? She couldn't go back to the way things were before, she told herself firmly. Forget all the nonsense about finding a more honest way; Thenardier had been right on that score. She would never admit that to him of course. No, she could take care of herself, and she would, she decided firmly.

A sudden rustling caught her attention. She took quietly to her feet and moved quickly away from the sound. There was no one she wanted to meet at this time of night, especially in her current emotional state. She whisked along the avenue and ducked into the shadows. She could still hear movement. Her brows drew together as she took note of the exceptionally loud footsteps. No one who belonged out here would be so careless, she thought, risking a quick glance behind her.

It was all she needed to catch sight of the unmistakable blonde curls and glimpse a flash of red. Surely it couldn't be him...


	4. Chapter 3

Had Enjolras tailed her all the way from the cafe? She tried to clear her head enough to make sense of it, but to no avail. Making up her mind immediately to shake him off, she stole across the street and made her way through a series of alleys that ran parallel to the river, her mind buzzing. If it really was Enjolras whose footsteps she could still hear behind her, there was no way he would follow her where she was headed.

She came to a crumbling bridge. She ran off the road and down the slope to an expanse of gravel alongside the water beneath that was occupied by whores and beggars. Praying to God no one here would recognize her, she kept her face down and walked quickly, weaving around the darkened figures. She chanced another glance behind her and did not see him.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she stopped and, by chance, happened to look at a nearby woman cowering in the shadows. Suddenly, she could not help but wonder if this was where she would unavoidably end up. Eponine's eyes dropped from the stranger quickly, shaking the thought from her head. She could be of no help to the woman, and she had no business here, so she continued along the path until she came to a place where she could climb back up the bank to the road.

Then she heard it again: footsteps. _What the hell?_ she thought angrily. What could possibly be worth all this effort? Looking around, she spotted a boarded up door at the rear of a dilapidated building. She barely had to push on the boards at all for them to give way, and she ducked inside, finding herself at the base of a stairwell. She began to climb, managing, by the moonlight streaming through a gaping hole in the ceiling, to avoid puddles of moisture and especially treacherous looking steps.

At the top landing, she glanced up through the open space above her head. She could hear him clambering through the door below. She sighed and jumped up, catching the jagged edge of the hole. She took a sharp intake of breath but otherwise ignored the pain as she heaved herself up and out onto the roof. She took in her surroundings. To her right was a ladder that ascended the side of the taller neighboring building. She began to climb, pausing every few rungs to listen for her pursuer.

Standing up on the rooftop, she sighed in defeat. She had no where left to go. If Enjolras had followed her this far, perhaps she ought to let him catch up, although she was really in no mood to speak to anyone. Another lump rose in her throat, but she forced herself to push it aside, remembering her promise to herself to forget about all the 'honorable' non-sense and to simply take care of herself. She held herself to some standards of course; she would not become the woman in the gutter, but that didn't mean she couldn't still find some way to take advantage, she thought brushing away the hateful one tear that had managed to escape.

She made her way to the ledge and sat, with her feet hanging over the side, waiting for him. She doubted he realized that she was aware of him following her, but she could hardly have failed to hear him. Especially now as he struggled to crawl through the gap and onto the rooftop. She smirked. Clearly, he was finding it more difficult than she had. But then again, he could not exactly boast of being stealthy.

He was climbing the ladder now onto her rooftop. In her remaining moments of privacy she tried to collect her thoughts, searching fruitlessly for the sense of normality that she had lost back at the Musain. She took a deep breath.

"I never would have spoken to you in the first place if I thought you were going to start following me everywhere," she called loudly without turning around. The footsteps stopped. She turned to face him, her irritation punctured by amusement as her eyes fixed upon the dark shadow watching her with uncertainty. She sighed again.

"Have a seat," she said turning her back on him once more.

Enjolras hesitated for a moment, then finally closed the distance between them, sitting beside her on the ledge.

"You didn't think your pursuit was unnoticed, did you?" she teased.

He sighed, his eyes cast out on the skyline. "You heard me then?"

"Half of Paris heard you."

He nodded as if he had expected no less. "Your movements are very difficult to follow."

"And yours are trained with pride and prestige," she informed him with a laugh. "Alright for commanding the attention of a room, but no good for disappearing into the night."

He smiled distantly, and they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, Enjolras not wanting to admit why he'd followed, Eponine not wanting to ask. Instead, watched her feet dangle far above the street trying to formulate some way to turn the situation in her favor.

"You mustn't let Pontmercy upset you so" said Enjolras suddenly in a quiet voice.

Her head snapped up in surprise to find his eyes, questioning and clearly expressing his lack of understanding, finally turned towards her.

"Ah, I suppose you know as well," she whispered. Why not? she thought. Nearly everyone else knew about her feelings for Marius. It was only a matter of time before even the great lover of liberty himself caught on.

He frowned deeply. "Mademoiselle," he said, his voice surprisingly kind, "I have never seen anyone rise from a table so quickly."

Eponine laughed miserably, trying to no avail to stop the wave of despair that returned as she remember the scene in the cafe. She wiped her face with her sleeve, if only partially to hide her face from him.

"And you followed?" she said blatantly.

"Yes," Enjolras replied stiffly turning his eyes back to the city. "I- Marius may not be so cautious, or perhaps he is simply blind to any unpleasantness in the world. But I could not allow you to go wandering into the streets alone at such an hour," he explained.

Eponine stared at him in disbelief, barely stifling a burst of laughter, but she bit her tongue. It was rather touching really, however ridiculous the notion of an escort on the streets seemed to her. It suddenly struck her that the man sitting beside her did not know her past. He did not know who she had previously been, nor what he was walking into. She wondered what she was in his eyes with not a thief and a gamine?

"Are you in love with him?" he asked gently.

"I don't know," she said with a hint of bitterness. "I don't think so anymore."

"Perhaps you were only in love with the idea of him," he suggested.

"Yes, perhaps," she said slowly, though she couldn't see what business it was of his. He may have been right. She had never known men to be kind before Marius, and she had thought him unique for it, but of course it was not true. He was merely a copy of every other gentleman who had ever drawn breath.

"Something about him made me believe in decency." She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut as if it could block it all out.

"And do you still?" asked Enjolras' voice to her left.

"Not really," she found herself responding honestly. They fell silent for another moment. He was very handsome, she realized, studying his silhouette against the inky sky.

"I remember Cosette," she went on as she tore her eyes away from him, though why she bothered telling him any of it, she did not know. "She is shinning and perfect," she said darkly. "And I was foolish."

She brought her fingers to her lips. Stop talking, she urged herself. Just stop thinking. Stop.

"If you believe the only decency in the world stems from Marius Pontmercy, then perhaps you are," he said nudging her. Eponine smiled in spite of herself; she was unaccustomed to this Enjolras, the one who spoke softly and poked fun. Did they not call him the marble man? But for the second time, he seemed to have let his guard down around her.

"He is a good man, Mademoiselle," he continued, "but he has never looked to his left or right. Unless it lies right before him, he will not see it."

How very true, she thought, looking down at her hands.

"I only hope he does not die," she whispered after a moment.

Enjolras did not reply. She looked up at him to find his face had contorted into the most painful of expressions. Guilt, she realized. She laid her hand on his, meaning to comfort, but her pulled his away immediately. Rather ruffled by the brush off, Eponine watched in silence as he struggled visibly to fight away all the grief that undoubtably was not far beneath the perfect surface.

"Perhaps," he said finally, "he is rushing into...certain things because he fears he will."

"Is that how fear works?" Eponine whispered.

Enjolras shrugged ."The whole lot of them seem to become drunker by the day and more frivolous by the hour," he said bitterly.

"And what about you?" she asked. Surely he was afraid as well, she reasoned. She wished he would look at her.

"I do not like to rush into things," he replied matter-of-factly.

"So I've noticed," she said. His glanced at her, his eyes searching for answers she did not have. She stared back as she considered. She would not stoop to the level of the woman under the bridge; she still had some dignity, but nevertheless perhaps an arrangement could be made to benefit them both.

She reached for his hand again, but this time he did not pull away. She smiled.

"But will you not allow yourself some peace of mind as well?" she asked softly. "What if the worst should happen?"

His features hardened again. "I am prepared," he responded tightly.

"Well mentally, perhaps," she allowed lacing her fingers through his. He looked down at their hands, and she drew nearer. "But even if you survive, you could be imprisoned for life. Live a little while you can," she breathed.

"Would now not be an inadvisable time to allow my resolve to waiver?" he asked hoarsely. She smiled, her lips inches from his.

"Why so determined?" she teased easily. It wasn't entirely dishonest, she reasoned with herself. He was far from unattractive after all, and she just so happened to need a place to stay; worse things had happened. Her aching chest and fuzzied thoughts were enough for her to forget herself with ease.

"Surely it is far too obvious a weakness," he murmured.

She nearly rolled her eyes. "I'm flattered," she giggled and pressed her lips to his.


	5. Chapter 4

Eponine awoke in disorientation. She sat up suddenly, frantically looking around. A grunt came from her right, and she looked down in alarm to find a snoring Enjolras by her side. Of course. She sighed as everything came flooding back to her. Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness now, and as the room came into focus, the splendor of it reminded her exactly where she was and how incredibly out of place she was here.

Overcome with a sudden urgency to get away, she scrambled out from beneath the silky sheets. As she collected her dress from the floor, part of her felt it was a shame to leave such a soft, warm bed, but she reminded herself that she had no right to be in such a place of such luxury. Suddenly feeling exceptionally vulnerable, she ducked behind the screen in the corner. She felt herself relax as the fabric of her dress slipped over her narrow shoulders; not nearly as pleasing to the touch as the bedsheets, but she took comfort in the familiarity of it.

She stepped back out into the room, prepared to slip away into the night but froze suddenly at the sight of Enjolras sprawled across the mattress. Her chest clenched, and she turned away, putting the screen between them once again. Breathing heavily, she clamped a hand to her month as the reality of what she had done came crashing over her. She slid slowly down the wall, wrapping her arms around her knees as she sank to the ground and burying her face, trying desperately to muffle the sobs that were rising uncontrollably in her chest.

Had it all been borne out of grief for Marius? she asked herself, hiccuping. She could hardly remember her reasoning at all now. Biting her arm in an attempt to silence herself, she looked up at the screen, her vision blurred by tears. Just on the other side was a sight she could not begin to process; even exposed and abandoned in his own bed, Enjolras threw off the same sense of grandeur that he always had. Why had he given into her advances? Whatever happened to the marble lover of liberty? Of Patria and France alone?

Another sob bubbled from her throat only to be stifled into a whimper by her lips. Perhaps her words had resonated with him; perhaps she had successfully emanated the very message she had wanted to, displaying skills she could have only learned either from her father or Enjolras himself. She felt herself shrink at the idea of such a capability. Somehow she had crafted herself into something pathetic to be placed at his disposal and managed to convince herself that doing so was in her own favor. And what was worse- she now ached at the idea of leaving and all because he had been kind. _What a weakness_, she thought, _to abandon reason and dignity at the first sign of gentility._

Drying her face, she heaved herself to her feet. With a deep breath, she stepped from behind the screen once again but refrained from looking at him as she hastened towards the door.

"'Ponine."

She froze. Biting her tongue anxiously, she swayed on the spot for a moment before slowly turning in the direction from which the gravelly murmur had come.

Enjolras' eyes were closed and his lips slightly parted. She hesitated. He certainly appeared to be asleep, Eponine thought as she stepped closer, her eyes flicking over him as she tried to make certain. His face was still half buried in the pillow, and his chest rose and fell slowly. In her giddy relief, she felt herself smile at the sight of his disheveled hair falling over his face. Satisfied, she began to draw back.

"Where're you going?" he mumbled, speaking again without opening his eyes, voice heavy with sleep.

Eponine squeezed her eyes shut, wrinkling her nose. _Merde._ To be fair, she supposed it was a valid question. One to which she certainly didn't have then answer. Gingerly, she leaned over the bed.

"No where," she breathed in his ear. "Go back to sleep." Her lips brushed against his cheek as he "hmm'd" in reply. She straightened up again and paused, making sure she'd done enough. Then before she could change her mind, she fled the room.

_"Where have you been?"_

_"Why, have you missed me?"_

_"Maybe I have."_

_"Well, maybe you'll see me later."_

Eponine sighed. She had avoided the Musain for as long as she could which, naturally, was little more than a week. This morning she had encountered Marius in the street, and now here she was again, gazing, unnoticed by him, from across the room.

She pulled her eyes away from him, and they fell next onto Grantaire's face. Her heart flooded with sorrow at the sight of his slackened face starring down at the lip of the bottle in his hand. She stretched out her own hand and let her fingers fall lightly onto his. His eyes snapped up to her own abruptly. The corners of his lips turned up at her, and he twisted his hand from beneath hers and captured her fingers. She shook her head with a chuckle. He raised his drink to her, then, pushing his chair back, stood unsteadily and ambled away.

She leaned back in her seat with a sigh. She could hear Gavroche's voice amongst those of the other men, but she refused to search him out; the sight of him in their ranks unnerved her. Instead, her eyes now landed on the person she most did not wish them to.

Enjolras looked away from her as soon as their eyes met. She could see the flush creeping up his neck. She'd had enough. She stood, keeping her eyes on him audaciously. A fiendish part of her wanted him to look back at her again, and she did not have to wait long. Those deep blue eyes, so full of fire, flickered towards her again, lingering this time. Satisfied, she smiled disdainfully, turned on her heel, and headed for the stairs the stairs.

She had come beyond the shame she had felt that night. Truth be told, she would do it again; maybe she would, she considered, looking around at all the young men she passed on her way to the door. Her mistake the first time had been her emotions, but that would not be a problem now. In the last week, she had taken up some of Thenardier's old schemes and found she could make her way easily. Her sense of integrity was dulled again, and what she had done -though she was not particularly proud of it- did not seem so detestable now.

The only thing that still bothered her was the reproach in Enjolras' face. It was the promise of just that expression that had kept her away in the first place. Was it disgusted by her, was that it? He had no right to be, she thought bitterly as she walked out into the crisp night air. _Maybe if he dies, he'll thank me..._

As she crossed the threshold of the cafe, a hand closed around her shoulder unexpectedly, and she whipped around. The hand recoiled quickly, and she gasped at the sight of the owner.

"Monsieur Enjolras," she snapped before he could speak, "Perhaps you don't need to follow me every time I leave a room."

Enjolras stared back at her, seemingly unaffected by her words, though his nostrils flared slightly. "Of course," he said tersely. "I would only hope that I would never be the reason for your doing so."

Her eyes flashed dangerously as she recognized the double meaning in his words. "No, Monsieur" she scorned. "But there is only so much misery that I can stand being in a room with at one time!"

His lips tightened into a hard line. "I do not pretend to be ignorant of it. But out cause is greater than any one of us."

He hesitated. She could not help but hope, in the smallest way, that he was hurt by her leaving that night... that he wished she had stayed. As she watched him lick his lips, however, and continue so formally he may as well have been addressing an audience, she began to believe him incapable of any such feelings.

"Be that as it may," he went on, "I do not wish to have caused you any uneasiness. And for that I will ask your forgiveness in the hope that it may decrease the amount of misery for which I am personally responsible."

A small voice in her head told her to relent, to pity him, but she silenced it with a rough laugh. "What happened between us has caused me no grief," she lied, rewarded for it as she watched his eyes widen at her words.

"I was distraught," she went on crassly, excusing herself with a shrug as though she did not feel a horrible weight returning to her chest. "I needed somewhere to stay. I-" She broke off, looking away from him and swallowing. When she had collected herself, she looked back with a tight smile on her lips.

"You may release yourself of any guilt over me, Monsieur" she said lightly. "You will not be the first to do so."

"I do not wish anything of the sort," he said reasonably. "I only wish to offer my amity. I will admit freely that what happened between us was a mistake, and for that I accept full responsibility. You sought refuge, and I cannot fault you for that, but I shall not...I cannot take such an incident lightly either," he said autocratically.

Eponine rolled her eyes. Did he feel nothing? she wondered.

"Meaning what?" she asked impatiently. She had little tolerance for his virtues; for her lack of them, she was certain he thought her inferior.

"Meaning that I do not intend to brush you aside; I am a being of more honor than that."

"You need not-" Eponine began, becoming irritated again.

"I understand that," he cut her off sharply. "I only mean to say that if you so wish, I believe an arrangement could be made from which we both would profit."

This caught her attention. He clearly felt he owed her something, and she was hardly in a position to refuse. Feeling her resolve weaken, she grit her teeth. Finally, she gave in. "Alright. I'm listening."


End file.
